


Amusement

by VampireFaun



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Spock POV, Vulcan awkwardness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 14:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireFaun/pseuds/VampireFaun
Summary: The captain could be a funny little thing sometimes. Spock thought so, at least.





	Amusement

The captain could be a funny little thing sometimes. Spock thought so, at least.

Amusement was a relatively acceptable emotion, in Vulcan terms. It got a pass. After all, amusement wasn’t violent, wasn’t gusty, wasn’t painful; in fact, sometimes it helped logic along, laying bare the ridiculous, deconstructing the complex. When Spock had kept a pet as a child, he had done it beneath the excuse of amusement.

The reality would have been harder to explain.

Amusement was what Spock felt towards humans, too. Some Vulcans thought them vulgar, or disgusting, even; but Spock thought them peculiar. How they constantly got into fights and torrid relationships, how they laughed and cried and shouted—there was something distinctly entertaining about it all. Perhaps that was his human half speaking; perhaps that was why Sarek had given him that look, so many years ago, when he said he would join Starfleet. Living surrounded by humans—childlike, irrational humans, with their whims and urges—to use a human expression, it would be like being an adult in a room full of kindergartners.

That wasn’t quite how it ended up being, but it was certainly different. He’d known from the moment he first met the captain, when Kirk had walked up to him with his hand outstretched.

“Ah, there he is! Well, hello, how do you do, Mr….?”

He had looked down at Kirk’s outstretched hand. “Spock.”

“Right,” Kirk had said, leaving the hand up in the air. After a few moments, he blinked and shifted. “Well, uh—”

“Captain, I appreciate your greeting. However, in Vulcan culture, touching another’s hand is considered a sign of affection.”

“Oh—pardon me, Mr. Spock.” Kirk withdrew the hand, but he seemed relieved, and smiled warmly. “I didn’t know. Not a very good first impression, was it?”

Spock had regarded the captain for just a moment, surveying him. He had a very firm gaze, fixed, blue—but airy in some manner too, drifting, with a little twinkle to the eyes when he smiled. Boyish, really, though all humans seemed a little childish to Spock. Curious tightness in the brow, when he was thinking.

“All impressions carry equal weight to me, Captain. You have no need to worry.”

An amusing human indeed.

Of course, after the amusement came respect. Kirk had something that Spock did not: he had instinct, that ephemeral quality that Spock had never quite captured, the click of something beyond logic. Spock liked to watch Kirk on the bridge, when he was in the middle of a difficult decision. There _was _something working up there, in that brain of his, behind the sandy head of hair, a force that wasn’t logic. Spock could list the probability of every option, but the captain had to decide. It was entertaining to watch him decide.

“Spock,” Kirk had whispered once, on a mission, as they were crouched behind a pair of bushes. “What’s the probability we can sneak past those guards?”

“One thousand five hundred fifty-three point seven to one, Captain.”

Kirk’s eyes darted across the field. There was a touch of sweat at his temple, and his shoulders rolled beneath the pale yellow of his shirt as he leaned forward. He was clumsily dragging the fabric of his pant leg across the ground; his hands were splayed against the earth. It was almost animal—nothing like Spock’s pose, lithe, crouching, the toes of his boots bent at just the right angle to balance him, one hand minding his tricorder.

And yet, Spock had watched him think, watched the battle rage in those clear blue eyes, until his focus narrowed and his muscles coiled, and Spock knew it was coming—

“Alright,” Kirk had said suddenly. “Let’s go—_now!”_

And off they’d darted, illogically, dangerously, but made it through all the same.

He had found that quite amusing, quite fascinating, as he’d turned it over in his head later. The captain’s very best skills defied reason, defied logic.

Amusing indeed.

The first time he had sex with him was a few days after that.

He’d stood by Kirk’s bed in the sick bay while McCoy fretted over him with his scanners. Kirk was staring reluctantly up at the ceiling, weary, almost dozing off. McCoy was griping, as usual; Spock respected the doctor to some degree, but found him somewhat too grating to be amusing.

“You can’t just spread yourself thin like this,” McCoy was saying, leaning on the edge of the bed. “I mean, _physically _you’re fine, but would it kill you to have some rest? Your stress levels are off the charts.”

“Wish it were that easy, Bones,” Kirk mumbled as he sat up. Then, he sighed. “It’s hard to leave the bridge. I just don’t want to get us stuck in a situation like that again.”

“Statistically,” Spock cut in, “It is improbable. There are very few planets that have planet-based tractor beams that strong—”

“Quiet, Spock!” McCoy snapped. “This isn’t about _statistics. _He’s stressed, he’s got to relax somehow.”

“Now, don’t be too hard on him,” Kirk said, as he swung his legs down from the table. “He’s just trying to make me feel better, in his own way—at least, I’d like to think so.” He sneaked Spock a smile, with that twinkle in his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Spock?”

Spock raised his brows. “I was simply pointing out—”

“Yes, yes.” Kirk stood up. “Anyway, I’ll be fine, Bones. I’m going to get back to the bridge.”

Bones scowled. “The _hell _you will!”

“Yes, glad we agree—”

McCoy blocked his way. “Oh, no you don’t. Under my authority as the doctor, I’m prescribing one day of mandatory rest.”

Kirk groaned. “No, come on, Bones—”

“Keep complaining and I’ll make it two.”

Kirk leaned against the table, crossing his arms, and gave a doleful look. “Now, at least let me postpone it. We’re still traveling through—”

Bones held up his pen, giving a threatening look. “What did I say?”

“But—”

“What did I—!”

“Come on—”

“Final!”

“Bones—”

Spock found this type of squabble fairly amusing, at least when it wasn’t impeding a mission. Logically, however, he had to admit that the doctor was correct. He’d seen the captain’s eyes fade a little lately, drifting off just a little too much.

“I can escort the captain to his room,” Spock interrupted.

McCoy looked at him in grudging surprise. “I can’t believe we agreed on something.”

“Oh, you traitor,” Kirk muttered, and sighed. “Very well, I suppose I’m outnumbered. No need for an escort, I’ll go myself.”

“You think you’re fooling me? Spock, go with him, and don’t leave until you see him _in _bed.”

“Certainly.”

And so he ended up trailing Kirk down the corridor, heading towards his room.

“You know what I really need, Spock?” Kirk said with a kind of wistfulness, as he walked.

“Not precisely.”

“I need to just…” He tilted his head, as they rounded a corner. “I need to take shore leave one day. Go down there to whatever planet we stop at…meet a great girl, spend a few nights with her. Forget about all of this for a while.” His lips curled slowly into a sheepish smile, as he looked back to Spock. “Well, I’d ask if you know what I mean, but I can’t imagine you do.”

“I do have some level of understanding,” Spock said simply. “You wish for a distraction in order to clear your mind. As a Vulcan, I seek distraction similarly when I meditate.”

Kirk gave an abrupt laugh, and shook his head. “No, no, Spock, that’s not it at all. You see—” He pondered it for a moment. “You see, when you’ve got a girl, and you’re…it’s just the two of you, and nobody else, it’s…”

Spock raised his brows and watched him.

With a sigh, Kirk waved him off. “Oh, never mind. Don’t listed to me; I’m tired.”

Soon they reached the room, and the door slid open; Kirk turned to Spock and gave a lazy salute.

“Alright, you’ve got the bridge. Do as you will—”

“Captain,” Spock interjected. “I did tell Dr. McCoy that I would make sure that you were _in _the bed.”

Kirk gave a weary sigh. “Fine, fine. Look.” He entered the room and sat on his bed, crossing his legs, and folded his hands in front of him. Then, he raised his brows and looked up to Spock, suppressing a smile, with an expression of mocking innocence.

“I am now _in _the bed, Spock. You may go.”

The captain could be a funny little thing sometimes. Spock thought so, at least.

Spock folded his hands behind his back and stepped into the room.

At first, Kirk did nothing, as the door of the room slid shut. Then, he uncrossed his legs, and gave a confused look. “Mr. Spock?”

“I have a proposition,” Spock said. His face was as grave as always; he gave nothing away.

“What…” A baffled pause; Kirk watched him closely. “What…type of proposition?”

“I am aware that intercourse can relieve human stress. That is simply a fact of biology.”

“I’m not sure I follow—”

Spock didn’t quite meet Kirk’s gaze; instead, he tilted his head and matter-of-factly raised his brows. “I know that this topic tends to be quite illogically difficult for humans, but as your first officer, I am responsible for the stability of the ship. To this end, your health is crucial.”

Kirk hesitated, seemed confused for a few moments, and then suddenly gave a start; but then he furrowed his brow. “You’re being unusually…unclear. I’m not sure I’ve understood correctly.”

Spock looked at him. “I am only speaking vaguely because I know that human sensibilities on this subject can be difficult.”

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said slowly, “Are you offering…to have _sex _with me?”

“Not precisely,” Spock corrected. “I am offering to use sexual contact to relieve you of stress.”

Kirk stared at him in utter shock and confusion, in a way that Spock found amusing. It was endearing, even.

Quickly, however, Kirk recovered and grasped for words. “Well, I…” He paused, still completely lost, looking anywhere but at Spock. “Of course, I—I appreciate your concern, and—but—” He finally managed to look at Spock. “_What?_”

“Is there a problem?”

“I don’t think you understand what you’ve just said.”

“I understand it perfectly.”

Kirk gave him a bewildered look. “Surely you know that among humans, sex is about…it’s about emotions, it’s about—”

“Must it be?” Spock said, cool as can be. “I know that acts of masturbation are done without emotional involvement.”

Kirk gave a bewildered scoff of a laugh, and put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m discussing this with you—”

“It is a very logical solution.”

“This isn’t about logic, Spock, this is madness! First of all, you’re my first officer. It just isn’t in the job description. Why, if you weren’t here, do you think I’d have Scotty—” He rubbed his forehead and laughed again. “Just thinking about it is madness!”

“Mr. Scott is human,” Spock observed calmly. “I am the most logical choice because I would have no emotional involvement. It would be to me what a handshake is to you. Can’t you see that?”

“See, but that—” Now Kirk was turning pink. “That makes it _worse_, Spock, not better! Then I’m just using you. You’re my friend.”

“You use my my services every day on the bridge. This would be no different.”

“But it would make things _strange_ between us. Uncomfortable.”

“Not for me.”

“But it would for me! It would be embarrassing to know that you’ve seen me in an indecent state. Vulcans wear clothes, don’t they? Surely you understand embarrassment.”

“If that is your concern,” Spock said dryly, “Then you must remember that, to a Vulcan, showing emotion is the most shameful act of all. Every time somebody on this ship laughs or cries, it is as though—in your conception—they are naked. You cannot embarrass yourself more than you already have.”

“You would really feel nothing?” Kirk said, in a daze. “Nothing at _all?”_

“I believe I have made that clear, Captain.”

“That’s terribly sad, it’s…” Then, Kirk looked up, and suddenly seemed to watch him more closely. “Never?”

Spock gave a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Could you ever feel anything? Or is it just—to you, is it just—”

Kirk seemed troubled by something. Abruptly he stood up, and paced to the other side of the room, before pausing.

“I find that…sad,” Kirk murmured.

“Why?”

Kirk looked back at Spock. There was something in his eyes.

“No reason you would ever understand, I suppose,” Kirk said, smiling sadly.

Though Spock didn’t quite understand, he did feel a twinge of regret. A negative emotion—pesky thing. “I regret if I have caused you discomfort.”

Kirk shook his head, looking off towards another part of the room. He seemed embarrassed. “No, no, nothing like that.”

A strange pause. Then—

“Captain,” Spock said, “Please do return to bed. Dr. McCoy’s orders.”

Kirk sighed. “Not with that again—”

“I have a duty as your first officer to carry out the orders of—”

Turbulence came into the way that Kirk stood; he turned and looked at Spock with a tired but mischievous eye. “No.”

“Captain, this is childish.”

With a little bit of annoyance, Kirk raised his hands and let them fall again. “Then I suppose I’ll be childish. Let me be, Mr. Spock.”

“Then return to bed.”

And then Kirk looked at him, weary, jaunty, but with just a touch of bitterness, and said:

“Make me.”

“All right,” Spock replied, somewhat sternly.

Then he came forward, a veritable wall of Vulcan strength and height and focus, and pulled Kirk in by the wrist, then the arm, then the whole of him, struggling.

Despite this, Kirk was laughing. “Spock! Good God, you’re stronger than I remember—ouch—mind the grip, will you?—Spock—all right, I’ll go! Spock—”

With some effort, Spock had managed to drag him to the bed; now he pressed him down onto it, just the slightest bit winded from the effort. He didn’t let go; instead, he held him down by the shoulders.

“Please, do not leave the bed again,” Spock said, looming over him.

Kirk looked up at him, out of breath. Then, slowly, something came into his eyes, as Spock watched. His focus narrowed, his muscles tensed—

In one strong grasp, he grabbed the front of Spock’s shirt and kissed him.

_Another illogical decision, _Spock thought to himself, _Pure instinct. _He thought this to himself, fascinated, as Kirk kissed him. He wondered what the instinct had been.

Then, Kirk pulled away, and looked at him. He seemed confused that he had done it—a touch regretful—but a touch curious.

They met eyes.

“I see,” Spock said simply. “What I have heard is true.”

Kirk hesitated under Spock’s shadow. He was still the captain through and through, a little puffed up with pride, but now a little cowed, too. Still, he managed to pull out a mocking murmur. “And—what is that, Mr. Spock?”

“Humans think with their genitalia.”

With that, Spock took off his shirt, revealing the tight black undershirt underneath. He preferred that his uniform not get dirty.

************************************* 

Spock was amused.

There was a unique sort of vulnerability in humans, when they were in their throes of pleasure. The way that Kirk’s breath caught in his throat, the way his hands shook when they tightened into the covers of his bed. The types of expressions that he made, the flush that blotched his face—things he would never do on the bridge of the ship. Spock had never had the chance to see him in this state before; he had to admit, he found it fascinating.

Kirk was surprisingly resilient, too. The Vulcan body was a powerful machine indeed, brutal compared to the human form, the muscles tougher, the movements more forceful. Spock had tried to assure him that he would do his best to be gentle, so as to not leave bruises behind, but Kirk had replied with a groan—“Spock, don’t say things like that!”—and so Spock had said nothing more of it.

He also hadn’t known that Kirk was religious—or perhaps all humans prayed when they had sex. He didn’t know. Perhaps it was one of those illogical human traits that was hard-wired in, unchangeable—the soft pleas, the quivering prayers, the hisses through clenched teeth—“Oh God—oh God—oh _God! _Spock!_” _It was a little bit distracting, really; Spock was trying to time his thrusts at precisely the speed that would be conducive to maximized pleasure, but the speech made the rhythm of Kirk’s breaths disjointed, and it threw everything off.

Sometimes Kirk’s breathing became altogether too heavy, and Spock reasoned it wasn’t the best for his health. Therefore, every once in a while, he stopped the relentless push of his thrusts and let Kirk catch his breath. However, he knew the importance of maintaining human arousal, so he made sure to properly kiss the important erogenous zones available to him when Kirk’s back was facing him—the neck (both sides, as well as the nape), the upper back, the shoulders. It was incredibly amusing, the effect that these simple sensations had on Kirk; he turned soft, docile even, and the temperature of his neck and shoulders grew hotter.

“Spock, you’re gonna kill me,” Kirk gasped.

Spock gave one firm, final kiss to his throat. “I fail to see how.”

“Figure of—speech—” Kirk panted, but then Spock reached back down between his legs, and Kirk no longer spoke.

At one point, Kirk actually seemed to be trying to thrust back, against him. This irritated Spock just slightly.

“Captain, you should hold still,” he said.

“You’re not going—fast enough—”

“I am going at the optimal speed for your current state of arousal.”

“This is torture—”

“Don’t move,” Spock said again; and he took Kirk’s shoulders in his broad Vulcan hands, and pressed him down firmly, holding him in place. That was better; now he could thrust at his own speed.

Kirk didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he unleashed a string of prayers so desperate that he sounded like he was dying, and pressed his hips down against the firm grip of Spock’s hand.

Amusing indeed.

*************************************

Kirk was shuddering when it was over—twitching, curling his fingers, taking deep and heaving breaths. Spock wasn’t sure whether this was a normal part of the human orgasm response, so he had covered Kirk with a blanket, in case he was cold.

When Spock had moved away to get his clothing back, though, Kirk had reached out and seized his arm.

“Wait—Spock,” he managed. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your—you didn’t—”

“Ah. You mean my own sexual response?”

“Do Vulcans not…?”

“We do,” said Spock. “But I employed mental shielding techniques in order to abate any sensation during this encounter.”

Kirk seemed baffled, almost disappointed. “Why?”

“There was no use for it.”

“So you felt _nothing?” _

Spock blinked, and raised his brows at him. “Didn’t I make that clear before, captain?”

Kirk let go of him, and slipped back against the pillows of the bed. The disappointment was clear now.

Though he didn’t completely understand it, Spock tried. “I _am_ satisfied that you are in a more relaxed state.”

Kirk laughed quietly and shook his head. “Sometimes, Spock, I envy you.”

_You shouldn’t._

The thought came and went in an instant, uncalled for, abrupt, ugly. Bitter. An emotion—an unpleasant one. Shameful. Why had it come?

“Do get some rest,” Spock said, and left him.

**Author's Note:**

> HEYYYYOOOO im new to star truck fandom pls be kind 2 me...................i LOVE these two so much....................h e l p . . .. . . 
> 
> MORE TO COME IF IM NOT LAZY!! ive got PLANS
> 
> I LOVE COMMENTS, FEED ME, BUT IF NOT THATS OK TOO
> 
> THANKS FOR READ MY SCRIBBLES SO FAR!!!


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